So there are goods and bads with being on social and professional networking sites (LinkedIn, Facebook, etc) People find you - whether you want them to or not.
Some are nice surprises, but now and again, you hope you were long done with these folks. This is not a story of the latter, but the former.
“Len” was someone I looked up to – literally. Standing 6’8” or so, he towered over me by a good 5”. Not that he wasn’t handsome back in the day. He still is. I have a thing for taller guys – or at least guys near my height, if not larger.
Len caught up with me on one of these aforementioned sights. I accepted his invite to connect and then we started exchanging some emails. I should mention, we’ve “known” each other for over 20 years – though physically we haven’t been together for about 15 of that.
I didn’t know Len socially. Yeah, I’d see him at a bar (how could you not?), but it’s not like we talked or flirted. My memory is cloudy on how, but we did connect – obviously. I’m assuming it was at and end of the night – the bar is closing and all the fags are out on the sidewalk, hoping for an after-hours or hook-up, or both.
As it turns out, Len lived about two blocks from me. I must have given him my phone number because at 3a the phone rings. I’m not sure who ends up being/sounding more desperate: the guy who calls, or the guy who answers. He got my address and in a matter of minutes I was letting him in the door.
Now at this time, I live in a four-plex(?). An older building that had two upstairs and two downstairs apartments. At least I was up – less noise. But everything had great detail and wood floors. I also had a wood bedframe which might not have been the most stable.
Both of us being drunk or tipsy, we shed our clothes fast. I should also mention most of our encounters took place in the heart of summer. And as you might be able to gather, this building was old enough that there were no AC units.
It probably wasn’t practical, but we moved directly into the bedroom. I barely fit on the bed and even my toes hung over. There was no way Len was fitting at all. But we weren’t there to sleep.
I’m sure there was cocksucking (me doing him), but what it really came down to was fucking. It always does.
While Len was tall, he was fairly average – you know………down there! But the man knew what to do with it.
During our emails this last week, he was going on about how ‘great’ I was in bed. I can’t vouch for that, but at least as a team we had the process down to an art – and that was from the first time and from the word ‘go’.
We had lube and we used it, but as it turns out, we probably never needed it. With the sauna of an apartment, the no AC and the motion, it turns out sweat is an incredible lubricant. It was like someone poured grease all over us.
Our legs and chests moved together like nobody’s business, to say nothing of his cock in my ass.
That rickety bed got a workout. That headboard, while not hitting my crown, was certainly doing some work against the wall. Mind you, each apartment was set-up the same, so it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out my neighbor was most likely right below us if she was home. Not, it doesn’t take a genius, just an observant, polite neighbor – which at 3:00a – 4:00a on a Saturday night, I was not. Naturally, every window on the place was open too in hopes of getting some kind of breeze. I’ll assume the folks in my building and the ones next door had theirs open too.
These were also the days of real poppers. Not the shit you get now but real ones that could really put you in orbit for a few minutes. Len always had them with him – they were always good. He would always feed them to me so he could leverage that large body into a pile driver. Like I said – he was really really good at what he did.
Each and every time, he’d bury himself up my ass to bury his load. I gladly took it – not that I was ever asked. I guess when eventually you leave your door unlocked for a guy to just walk in during the middle of the night, while you waited in your bedroom, prepped and ready, there are some expectations.
Len’s and my sessions would last at least an hour – and we had multiple of them over the course of the two years I lived in that building. Always late night bootie calls. After we were done, without fanfare, he would throw on his shorts – sans underwear – and head out.
We see each other out and sometimes chat, but nothing really. It is not that we didn’t have anything to say or that we were unlikable to each other – it wasn’t that kind of relationship. Looking back, could it have been? It is way too hard to make that kind of guess. I would have had t get a bigger bed though.
So during these emails that were exchanged over the last week, I told him my almost embarrassment for our behavior with my nice downstairs neighbor, Robin (I didn’t really care about the other two – or think it affected them that much, if at all).
Len goes on to tell me that he ended up meeting and knowing Robin after our time together. When asked how she knew him and then him with me, she told him she’d look out her front window when he left.
1. It’s not hard to figure out when we were done, as the bedroom stopped shaking and the moans of ‘I’m cummmmmmmmmmming’ subsided. And the traipsing across the hardwood floors to the front door and the noise on the steps.
2. It’s not hard to probably recognize one of the few men in town who were that tall. As Len has a highly recognizable job, I guess it is not too far out there that he crosses paths with many – so that they met isn’t too weird.
Robin was smart and put 2+2 together. Though Len never said he apologized for our activities, he did say she wished her sex life was as half as good as ours was and that she got a bit turned on when she knew he was over. Sitting there reading his email on that disclosure, I had a glimmer of pride and embarrassment all at the same time.